Teleny review: Gay erotica falls flat

Rebecca Harkins-Cross

Published in 1893, Teleny is an iconic piece of gay erotica thought to be written by Oscar Wilde and his circle. Adaptor Barry Lowe, author of such titles as I Was A Male Nympho for the FBI, has clearly found himself enamoured with the source material – so much so that this bloated Bacchanalia runs over three and a half hours.

Camille Des Grieux is an aristocratic dandy: sullen, entitled and insufferable, who Tom Byers plays with an air so haughty it’s as if his silver spoon has been shoved up his backside. It’s loosened, along with his ennui, by his meeting with Rene Teleny (Jackson Raine), an exotic pianist he’s bewitched by.

After much pining their long-awaited tryst is preposterous, a softcore fantasy of gleaming flesh entangled on the buffed hood of a grand piano. Director Robert Chuter chooses to configure it as an interpretive dance, with flaccid genitalia flopping around in the most unflattering (and unerotic) fashion.

There are many rivals for the sybaritic rogue Teleny’s affections, not least of all Camille’s mother (Frederique Fouche). The endless sex scenes in this "pork fest" are utterly crude yet remarkably sexless. Mannerism that was initially interesting soon becomes agonisingly self-indulgent, resorting to cheap double entendres to lighten the mood.

A notable chunk of the audience wisely left at intermission, a staggering two hours in.